A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 7

7

                Abbey realized she had been holding her breath as she stared out of the window, her muscles tensed reflexively as she gasped for air.  She squinted at the curtains; they were pushed back as far as they could go along the length of the black metal curtain rod.  The tail on the left side was flipped up hanging over the arm of the chair; the other side twisted exposing the lining.  The window sat undisturbed, the glass still intact, the sash still tight against the frame.  How could someone have simply passed through glass, it could be the story line for an X-Files episode or Stephen King novel but this was real.  Even as Abbey tried rationalizing this there was no way around the evidence, at least the stuff that was still in the room.  She looked all about her as if to confirm what she had been thinking, and yet, if someone was telling her the story she would be the first one waiting for the punch line.  A trace of a smile passed over her lips just as a wave of nausea pushed in, a simple reminder that this was no joke.  She fought it off, being sick anytime felt like a sign of weakness and at the moment if felt like an excuse. 

A headache followed close behind and she closed her eyes to trying to block it.  Raising her hand up to her face she winced as her fingers brushed across a large bump forming above her right temple.  The dull ache reminded her of when she was twelve; her brother had been fooling around in the house with a tennis racket, pretending he was McEnroe performing one of his signature temper tantrums.  Abbey caught the edge of the racket right between the eyes and she tumbled backwards into the hallway.  Jorge of course had rushed to her side but she remembers that when she looked up it was not Jorge that was kneeling beside her, I was her Grandmother. Her face, she was so young and beautiful – she said everything was going to be all right.  Abbey broke into tears.

Another wave of nausea hit hard and fast, there was no fighting this one off, nothing to do but hang on and go for the ride.  She rolled to one side catching a glimpse of her right foot that had been neatly folded under her after falling into the hole in the floor.  She cried out as a sharp pain telegraphed up her leg.  Shaking and crying she wrapped her arms around her bare legs; pulling them together panting loudly and growling underneath each breath hoping that it might somehow relieve the pain when she heard a faint knock at the door.  Abbey held her breath and listened but it was quiet, panic washed over her not sure of what she may have heard.

A second knock echoed inside the room and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.  She inhaled deeply, on the verge of yelling when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking across the floor and down the steps to the front door.  A chill ran up her spine, the hairs lifting on her neck and arms.  Then she heard the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt as it clicked and turned inside the cylinder.

“Oh, hello, I didn’t think anyone was home, I hope I’m not troubling you?”

“No, no, not at all.  How can I help you?”

“What the hell?  Holy shit, who is in my house?”

There was a short conversation too quiet for Abbey to make out but for more than a few words.  She thought she heard the name Strauss, then a hearty “Merry Christmas” just before the sound of the door closing.

Abbey’s breathing increased and her mouth went dry. “What the fuck?” she whispered to herself.  Whoever was out there was coming up the stairs,  Hard souled shoes clicked on the tiled staircase, pausing briefly as they reached the top and started getting closer.  Her pulse rocketed and she could hear the pounding in her ears.  The door!  She had to block it somehow; block out the searing pain as she leaned over and dragged herself across the floor.  It was getting closer.  Click, click, click, Abbey tried to picture the length of the hall, she’d walked it a million times. How come she couldn’t think of how many steps it took.  Six, seven, maybe 8 tops and whoever it was would be at the door.  Abbey pulled herself up on her hands and lunged at a chair close to the door managing to slide the back just under the handle as it began to push down.  She began to breathe again and there was a rapid jiggling on the handle and the door began to shake.

“Who are you, what do you want!”  Abbey screamed.  The rattling stopped.

“Very clever Abbey, I hope you didn’t think that was someone coming to stop us.”

“Stop you from what? And what do you mean us?

“Us?  Why you and me Abbey!”

Abbey sat leaning against the door, her mind whirling. “There is no you and me, I don’t know who you are.”

“Ah but you do, and I know you very well my darling we’ll have plenty of time to chat once things get back to normal.”

“What the hell are you talking about, back to normal, normal left sometime after supper last night? This... I don’t know what this is and I don’t like you being in my house!”

“It’s our house now darling; you might want to keep that in mind.  Oh, and you better wash up now, dinner will be ready soon and the guests will be arriving.

Abbey closed her eyes and started shouting, “No, NO, NO! Get out go back to where you came from!”

There was a few seconds of silence before the sound of footsteps clicked and echoed down the hall towards the living room, within seconds a fire orange glow of light flickering under the bottom of the door and Abbey realized that there was a now a fire in the other room.  The images from the other night flashed behind her eyes; what she thought was only a dream was something much bigger. 

The familiar buzzing of her cell phone announced an incoming call.   She was terrified to move from the door but knew she had no choice.  Abbey rolled on to her left side and began clawing her way over to the phone reaching it just in time.  “Hello?”

Silence, for what seemed like forever then – Hello, Abbey is that you?  What’s the matter?”

“Francis, I’m so glad you called, I don’t have time to explain, please…click. “Francis,  hello, are you there? Francis!” Abbey knew that the call was lost and was just about to call back when it began to buzz in her hand. The reception was horrible and there was a lot of static. The voice of an overly cheerful operator came on the line, “We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and try your call again, we’re sorry, your call-.” The light flickered and went out. The phone was dead, she began to cry.

After about 5 min the sobbing had subsided, she wiped her eyes and looked down at the floor letters strewn about her when she noticed a familiar name, Albert Brude.  She picked up the envelope and flipped it over and saw it was addressed to her.  She had just finished closing his estate, how was it possible to have a letter concealed in the floor of her bedroom.  She put it to the side and picked up another one that had Ted Jacobs name printed in sharp precise lettering, he was the train engineer in the accident with Albert.  She began organizing and stacking the envelopes, most of them were from people she had helped over the past year, all of them with a family member that had died or were dead themselves like Albert.  Others she didn’t recognize at all and stacked them in a small pile to the right.  She found a large manila envelope covered in doodles of moons and stars that had her name handwritten across the front and below it were three small words. Don’t be afraid. She sliced it open and searched the edge with her fingers for a piece of paper but it was empty.  She pulled the ends apart and looked into the sleeve and saw a small business card and reached in and read the name on the card, Mystic Angels -psychic readings by Anna Krauss.  Abbey stared at the card and read it over several times before she realized why it sounded so familiar.  It wasn’t Strauss she heard the voice at the door say, it was Krauss.  It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be.  Abbey pulled herself over to her desk and pulled down a pad of paper and a pen and began to write.  When she was finished she sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to Anna before dropping it into the hole in the floor and covering it up.  She waited 5 minutes before removing the section of flooring again and smiled, there was nothing there, just as she thought.

Water like stone

        The water is like stone, heavy on my back.  I shake the world off with gritty hands filling the voids with fragmented sediment.

Hold steadfast to great plumes of grey smoke that rise from autumn fires as the forest looks on, snow nestled in a thousand bows, lidless eyes.

Be good to yourself you said, and always remember to remember.

Imagine innocence and the pure beauty of youth…It will sustain you I say.

Strawberry fields of winter snow lay at the feet of bended knees as the catacombs of spring lay beneath, rich and sweet, patiently waiting.

A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 6

6

                Melanie closed her eyes and stared at the ceiling.  She had gone to bed, more out of habit than for sleep and pulled the covers over her as she had always done in her 8 years of marriage.  Habits are hard things to break, the little things we do for ourselves or for others.  Sleeping on the left hand side of the bed for instance when you don’t have to.  She listened to the noises of the house and the rattle of an engine as it cruised down the street. 

Sleep came slowly but it did come and she woke up laying in pretty much the same position.  She had that familiar jet lagged feeling of having too little sleep and with the sense of being in a strange place.  It had been a warm night for end of September but she was still wrapped up in the comforter.  She casually thought of how Gary would have had kicked off everything and still complain it was too hot, or worse, he would have the sheets pulled so tight that you could barely move.  With that she kicked her feet side to side enjoying the freedom of it, it felt almost luxurious and she began to laugh in spite of the empty feeling she carried, tears streaming down over her cheeks the whole time.

The sun was high in the sky when she finally decided enough was enough, “action needed to be taken!” popped the voice of her mother in her head.  She slipped out of bed and crossed the floor to the bathroom stepping over her clothes that lay strewn across the floor from where she dropped them last night.  She didn’t bother getting dressed and headed towards the kitchen catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and stopped, looking at the face and shape of a woman she did not recognize.  How long had it been since she had looked at herself, honestly?  A chorus of echoes inside her head yelled Years - and yet the woman staring back was not altogether displeasing.  She had always been active and so she was firm in all the right places and no gray hairs yet, well maybe one or two but it didn’t matter.  She lifted herself up on her toes and turned sideways looking back over her shoulder and smiled.  An unexpected feeling like teenage giddiness softened the melancholy of the empty room and she left the door open as she headed down to the kitchen. 

She placed a fry pan over the element and turned the knob on the range and a bright blue fame sprung to life.  As the pan heated she pulled out some eggs and orange juice from the fridge.  The sun room was bright and inviting; the warmth of the morning sun heated up the slate tiles and pushed a warm breeze across the kitchen to where she stood and raised goose bumps on her bare arms and breasts.  As she stood there, she noticed the business card that Anna had given her stuck to the fridge door.  “Abbey Parker” – she read the name out loud then looked at the number.  “This can’t be right, Delta 559. They haven’t had numbers like that in years.  How would you even call a number like that?”  There was a popping sound from the frying pan clearing her thought.  She jumped not realizing she had even cracked an egg, in fact her glass was full of orange juice, coffee was made and the toaster sprung up a second later with two pieces of bread.  Melanie had prepared everything without memory of doing any of it.  She finished up and made her way over to the nook and sat down in the sun looking over the place setting.  Her mind was trying to catch up but her body was already dipping the corner of the toast into the middle of the yolk.  Melanie began wolfing down her breakfast like she did when she was 5, eager to get outside to play.  The warm golden yolk of the eggs spreading out over the plate was delicious and tasted like nothing she had ever had before.  Within minutes she was done and ran the last piece of toast across the plate scraping up tail ends.  Melanie relaxed and sat back in the seat and took a sip of coffee when she heard a clicking sound coming from the counter.  She looked over and saw the carton of eggs sitting out beside the stove. The clicking began to increase in speed and get louder; little chips of shell broke off and dropped on to the floor.  Within seconds a small beak popped out, then another.  She dropped her cup and hot coffee spilled down over her legs making her jump up.  Multiple chirps echoed inside the kitchen instinctively she placed her hands over her ears and lowered her head to block it out.  After a few minutes the noise stopped and Melanie cautiously looked up and her gaze froze on her plate.  The residue of yolk on the plate had turned blood red, small drops that left a trail from the plate to where Melanie had lifted the toast up to her mouth.  Her stomach heaved and she felt the rise of fluids in her throat making her want to scream and throw up at the same time.  She jumped up and backed away from the table coughing and spitting out little pieces of toast and bile on the floor just as the phone began to ring.  She answered frantically, hoping the person on the other end could help.

“Hello, hello?”

Nothing more than static filled the ear piece.

“Hello, who is this?” said Melanie again but the phone began to ring again in her hand and she dropped the receiver.  As it bounced off the wall the cord straightened and turned into a bell shape as it remained swinging back and forth.  The phone had changed into a period model, with a wooden box and fixed mouth piece.  The ringing continued but changed in tone, over and over and she felt like she was being pushed backwards and over something hard in the middle of the room.  She fell backwards and just as she felt herself hit the floor she bounced back up in bed drenched in sweat and still wearing the clothes from the night before.  Her body was achy and stiff and the cloud of sleep infused with the depth of the dream made her feel like she needed to move gently.  She slowly rolled over on her side facing the night stand cluttered with Kleenex, pill bottles and various hand creams over that surrounded the alarm clock and night lamp.  As she focused on the clock to check the time she noticed a small white card clipped to the rim of the lamp with a clothes pin.  It was a business card,  the same card that she received the other day from the young girl living next door; Abbey Parker,  Madison and Harper Law.

Melanie sat up quickly and rested on the edge of the bed drawing in a deep breath trying to gather her thoughts and push out the images of the mornings dream.  Each time she closed her eyes the cracking shells hitting the floor and tiny heads poking out was all she could see.  Shuddering she stood up and peeled each piece of clothing off and let them drop to the floor.  On her way over to the dresser catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused.  She half expected to see egg shells stuck to her bare skin but there was nothing.  The rest of the morning was routine, coffee and a dish of yogurt with granola, no eggs on the menu for a while.  She started the dishwasher after she had cleaned up and was just wiping the counter when there was a knock at the door.  Anna stood in the same place as she had the previous day holding the morning paper in one hand and a set of car keys pinched firmly between two fingers in the other.  “We need to go for a drive!” she said rather sternly.

Melanie hesitated, almost ready to object but something in Anna’s tone measured something a bit more than what it appeared.   “Okay, yes, come in while I get my things.”

Anna stepped in and stood in the hall and placed the paper down on a mahogany table. 

“Do we need coffee for this?  I just made a fresh pot this morning?  Will we be long?”

“I never say no to coffee, good idea.  We should be about 2 hours I would guess.”

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“You can but you won’t recognize it once we’re there anyway.”

Her lips parted; ready to make a comment but only air escaped in the form of a very faint “huh?”

“I know how that must sound but you will understand what I mean I promise.”

“Considering the fact I just met you yesterday after my husband remarried someone else under my nose that resulted in a horrific nightmare… I would say I doubt it.”  “But for some unexplainable reason, I trust you, here is your coffee.”

Anna smiled and stretched out her arm. “Thanks, it does sound crazy doesn’t it?  I’m not exactly sure myself why I’m here.  Something told me I needed to do this and it needed to be with you.  Ready?

“I guess.”

Within fifteen minutes they were on the highway heading southwest passing by the last row of houses on the street they headed out into the flat prairie, round bales of straw dotting the landscape.  Yellow and brown leaves swirled in the wind of the car at the side of the road.  Anna turned right at the next intersection and pressed hard on the accelerator.  Melanie sunk back into the seat and looked over a little apprehensively, “Whoa, what’s the hurry?”

“We have to get there for noon.”

Without shifting her focus, she raised one eyebrow and recounted sarcastically, “ah I see, Noon, of course.  Actually, isn’t it supposed to be midnight?”

Ann ignored the remark and kept her eyes on the road, after all how could she know.

“How long ‘till we get to the spot?” asked Melanie.

“Should take about an hour!”

“Do you mind if I close my eyes? Terrible dream last night, remind me to tell it to you sometime.”

“No problem, I’ll wake you just before we’re there.”

She closed her eyes and drifted in and out, feeling the rise and fall of the road on the hills as they headed into the foothills.  They were just passing over the crest of one when Anna slammed on the brakes and steered into a roadside turn off at the edge of an old cemetery.  Melanie sat straight up and reached out for something to hang on to.  The car settled to a stop in a cloud of dust that followed a breeze straight down the road ahead of them.  A magpie lifted up into the air, disturbed of its seed gathering and flew up into the cross brace of the nearby telephone pole.  Both girls followed the bird’s movement and then followed the progression of dark brown poles and wire that marked the edge of the road off into the distance.  Anna got out first motioning for Melanie to do the same leaving the door ajar.  Melanie watched Anna move around the car and through the ditch towards the cemetery.  She started quickly after her when it looked like she wasn’t stopping any time soon.

“You’re right about one thing; I don’t recognize this place at all.”

“That’s because it’s missing something.”

“I drive this way out to Banff all the time but it all looks the same”… her voice trailing off.  “How exactly do you know that I travel out here enough to recognize that something is missing or out of place?”

Anna had her back to Melanie looking intently down at a large headstone and didn’t answer.

Melanie charged through the grass and grabbed Anna’s shoulder intending to make her look up; look back at her when she caught was Anna was looking at. The sandstone marker had several names on it for a couple of generations of family members.  It had eroded over the years but was somehow the small chips and weather worn edges were repairing themselves.  Anna stepped forward and pushed a large clump of grass to the side revealing a flat black granite headstone with the name William Adamson on it, Born 1808, Died 1889 then pointed out towards a farm house in the distance, “Look over there.”

“What am I looking at?”

“See the farm over there?

“Yes, but...”

“Shhh, just wait, watch the farm and the road past the house.”

Melanie looked at Anna a bit suspiciously but did as she was asked and stared off at the horizon and the old farm house.  There was a shimming like a heat wave off pavement on a hot summer day and gradually the black asphalt began to lighten and turn gray.  She wasn’t sure but it almost looked like it had a textured appearance as well.  “Is that gravel?”

Before Anna could answer Melanie choked out “holy shit.” 

Anna looked up and nodded, “I noticed this this last week when I was a bit farther out West.  No idea how long it’s been happening but it seems to be speeding up.  At first I thought it was random power problems, maybe related to the dam, but the more I watched it started to make sense.

Melanie watched as the road past the farm driveway began to shimmer and change colour.  It was almost like a funnel of mature hay, golden brown and ready for harvest was growing down the road.  Just then the small second house at the end of the property simply vanished.  “Oh my god, what the hell is going on?”

Anna answered Melanie’s thoughts as if she had heard her ask the question. “I think it’s all reversing and repairing the changes we’ve made, the history of civilization. I think that house was built early 1940’s.”

She had to force herself to look away and she found herself staring down at a thick patch of prairie grass where the black tombstone used to be.  “Anna, are you seeing what I’m not seeing?”

“That house belonged to Mr. Adamson” whispered Anna pointing down to the headstone.

“This is insane, how can time simply be erasing itself like this, and more importantly where does it end?”  Suddenly there was a large tree stump about 4 feet in front of them, rotted out at the base.  They quickly walked over to the side of the road again; afraid of what might disappear, but the realization that something could also reappear or come back suddenly dawned on them.  They looked out towards the Adamson farm again, the road now ended at the foot of the driveway but things seemed to have settled.  The valley between where they stood was still covered in crop at some places but already harvested in most and ready for winter.  A light mist was beginning to form in the low areas as the warmth of the day began to let go as the sun began to slide behind the mountains.  What they didn’t see was the small river that was once again flowing at the very bottom of the valley.  The valley has been dry since 1983 when a dam was put in to act as a reservoir and power supply to control floods from the Red Deer River. 

As the car pulled away Anna watched in the rear view mirror catching glimpses and fragments of changes.  Melanie refused to look at anything else; she pulled her hat down over her closed eyes and waited until they were back to the intersection just at the edge of town.  As they turned to head back to the house they were both aware that there were no  changes, nothing had disappeared, nothing added, not even the paint on the houses.  They looked at each other but said nothing, didn’t need to say anything, and drove the rest of the way in silence.

As Anna pulled into the driveway she was deep in thought and jumped as Melanie spoke.  “There has to be a source, a starting point to all this”, she had been looking straight ahead but looked over at Anna as she continued.  “Have you seen anything on the news?  We can’t be the only ones who have noticed this – Right?”

Anna shifted the gear to Park but left the car idling and reached over hitting the power button on the radio. The display light up but there was just static.  When she hit the seek button the numbers cycled around the entire FM band.  “Maybe we are just in a void or something on the driveway.”  Anna shifted the transmission into drive and pulled forward letting the radio continue its infinite cycle in search of a signal.  She crept forward as far as she could go and then back. “Nothing” she said.

“Let’s drive through town and see if we can find something.”

They drove in a crisscross pattern for about a half hour when the dial stopped and a voice penetrated the silence.  It was so unexpected Anna slammed her foot on the brake and came to a screeching halt in front of an old house that had been turned into a Law office.  “No, no way, it can’t be.”  Melanie reached into her pocket and pulled out the business card for Abbey Parker, Madison and Harper Law. 

Closed on Thursdays

I wrap my tired arms around your closed off flesh. Tried to beat into you - I love you,  I love!

You just shook it off and wiped it clean with a glove.

Can’t wait to see what happens next, god dam this living god dam this mess.

Shoe boxes full of laces and letters of bilk, razor blade apples and cyanide milk.

I stare at the ceiling but I can’t make it work. God dam this living god dam my soul its not that I want to I just can’t control.

I can see the end so clear don’t know why, you can’t see it too, there’s just so much everything and everything’s you.

Cigarette burns on the back of your hand, candy coated meth balls to make you subdued.

Jet fuel and ashes cover the earth, life is for living from day one of your birth but I just can’t stand it all the fuss and the shit, god dam this living I don’t see the worth

Sunshine and rain showers, snow storms and floods, black hoods and iron rods coming back all in blood. Why can’t they just let me be

God dam this living, it feels more like hell, needles and 2x4s do just as well to stop all the voices inside my head, time to stop screaming, time enough to be dead.

 God dam this living, god dam this mess, if it seems I’m unhappy it’s because of the dress,.. the dance.

There’s only escape in shadow and dust, kick off the bed sheets and roll in the crush of this 4 star traveling day dream peep show, the playgrounds on fire and the children all know.

God dam the sinners and saints meet there too, just an average night in the life of a muse, forgotten and broken in throw away shoes.

 The shallow rise and fall of the battered and broken make me feel so alive, I feel so unspoken of words that elude me again and again it’s late and I’m tired it’s time now to end.

A Winter Poem

A Winter Poem

                I stand looking at the small window at the back of the house, a candle yellow hue framed in black. 

I breathe in the freezing air and it feels like the blackness of night as well; the sting of it burning my lungs and bleeding steam as I exhaled. 

You are not there, no one is but I picture you all the same.

                I have to, or go mad in accepting I can’t bring you back.

 I lift my scarf up to cover my face; the faint tenuous fragrance still in the fibres lifts my spirit and closing my eyes I fold into the din and disappear.

                 I have to accept the madness of knowing you have disappeared too. 

They say time heals all wounds but I think it only outruns them.  Time encapsulates the memory so you can only see it as if behind a glass, preserved but no way to get through it.

                I hold my breath and picture you, I have to or it will be like you never existed.

But I see your smile, your soft amber lips and emerald eyes and I so dearly wish I could understand the wordless stories they used to tell me.  I reach out to touch you but I stop myself for if I don’t then it will only remind me you are gone.

I stand looking at the small window at the back of the house and I breathe in the freezing air letting it burn my lungs so I cannot speak.

                I have to or I will go mad with the knowledge I can never say I love you again.

RB).

To Move

To Move

Go forth and bellow for the art of moving men is a simple recipe of blood, fire, metal and stone.  Given no reason at all his seductive mind conjures all the ingredients to produce spontaneous and combustive prejudice against everything in spite of himself.

Whisper into empty shells and let the echo reverberate, sail on the breeze and to the ears of those that have nothing to lose but their passion and so the seed of influence sprouts and feeds their minds and soul for power.

Sit alone with split fingers, molding together reflection and perception into art that transcends time and space to alter tradition and faith with the subtlety of ocean tides.  Cast the net and capture the essence of man’s soul and let eternity either chide the maker or praise his end.

Compassion and hope to heal the dispirited minds and fractured bodies in simple gesture and reassuring tones that teach and multiply efforts ten thousand fold to bleed away sheer existence.

Love yourself unconditionally and in that truth, share it in order that others can understand it and erase barriers hidden by all other senses.  

A Letter to Myself

A Letter to Myself

Forgive me, my friend.  for I do not mean to make you feel sad - melancholy.  And it is with trepidation that I enter into this one sided dialogue but it is important, these things that I must tell you for the summers grow short.
Some things are obvious, like the changing of the seasons, each quarter year unique and yet comfortably familiar.  Almost lulling you into a kind of sublime rhetoric.  It is only wen you look back that you can truly see ahead.
For instance, you will probably type this and save it digitally on the computer.
1's and 0's
Don't fool yourself into thinking it is more real than pen and paper, the paper you leave behind as you are typing. This technology only came into existence in your lifetime, along with cell phones, remote keyless anything, hell TV for that matter. No good sir, nothing you take for granted now even mattered when the only thing that did was just letting you be.
How simple (pause) how simple it is to find the frame of reference in your mind and imagine the innocence and beauty of youth but impossible to find the tongue to speak of it.
Friends come and go along with the changing seasons, scatter like the fallen leaves of Autumn and grey like the mantle of fresh fallen snow.  On and on it goes......melting away into spring.  New generations to replace the last.
You will travel many miles in your life, physically and mentally and always will you have a place to call home but none so grand as the home you make for yourself in your heart.
So be good to  yourself and keep the heart of youth to carry as companion on your journey and always remember to remember.

rb)

The art of life

With monkeys paw I scribe the notes of grandeur and bliss, of hope and dreams on loved ones missed
to each days end I push the barrow filled of stone
up the hill and through the bone
In a hope that a path may one day lead
to ever eternal peace
but for now I struggle onward and bound
by pain and strife and grief.
(rb

A Kind of Homecoming Chapter 5

5

                A single yellow leaf dropped onto Melanie’s lap as she sat sipping coffee and scanning through the virtual pages of her Face book account.  The concept of changing seasons to a Canadian is a simple truth that is as accepted as night and day to everyone else but the hard evidence of that truth, in the form of a falling leaf still evokes a certain melancholy.  Kind of like a torch being passed over; the warm forgiving nights of summer for the golden hues of yellows and oranges and cooler days that is autumn.  From there it is only a matter of time until the long dark nights of winter accumulate as much as they do in a season as in our own selves as the years pass. 

She looked up and watched the leaves shimmer in the warm September air and wondered just how she got to this place.  It was a change of season for her in a sense as she looked back down at the picture on the screen.  It was a picture of her husband Gary dressed in a slick black tuxedo, his hand clasped tight around the hand of his new bride running away from the camera, he was laughing and wearing a smile of long forgotten youth.  She clicked on the arrow taking her to another picture, this one of a beautiful girl in white dress, a shower of rice raining down on her.  It was a beautiful wedding, but with one major flaw, it wasn’t her in the white dress.  During a random search of friends she had simply stumbled through the photo albums of a dozen strangers and while looking at those pictures, friends of friends, she innocently came across a set of wedding pictures taken the previous weekend.  Melanie had stumbled across pictures of her husband getting married to someone else while he was supposed to be on a business trip.  She was lost in thought when the sound of a car pulling up the driveway snapped her back to the here and now.  Melanie closed the lid of the laptop and rushed into the house meeting Gary as he slipped through the patio doors into the kitchen.

“Mother-fucker! When exactly were you going to tell me?  Actually what were you going to say, no wait Fuck it I don’t’ wanna know.

“Mel, it was –“

“Shut up Gary you stupid asshole, just get the fuck out!” A small cup crashed against the wall just past Gary’s head and rained fragments of glass down the back of his shirt.  A second one landed remarkably close prompting Gary to charge forward with full intention of stopping Melanie before she did something he would regret.  He only managed one step before a hand-made ceramic mug landed squarely across the bridge of his nose and a Fourth of July explosion that dropped him to his knees followed.  There was so much blood pouring through his fingers he wasn’t sure if it was just from his nose or from the flap of skin that he could feel at the edge of his left hand fingers.  Stunned from the pain searing across his face and how quickly things had unfolded his initial anger faded.  He realized pretty quickly that Melanie must know everything and there really wasn’t much to say.  He got up, grabbed a handful of paper towels and walked to the kitchen sink flipping on the tap and letting the water get cold.  After he cleaned up he casually picked up a few personal items from the bedroom, a couple CD’s and walked out.  Melanie watched from the living room window as he placed the small bag next to his suitcase that was still packed in the car.  He glanced up as he made his way down the side of the car and opened the door, stepped in and in seconds was driving away.

Melanie was still standing in the same spot, trance like, a look of shock and hurt embedded in her features when there was a knock at the door.  She was going to ignore it when there was a tiny click as the latch slide past the strike plate and the door opened.

“Hello?” came a shy voice.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, my name is Anna and I just moved in next door, well renting a room actually while I’m in school.  This is going to sound horrible and I hate admitting this but I noticed your husband leaving, and well, I kind of heard a little of the yelling.  I’m sorry I didn’t mean too, it’s just that with the windows open and all.” 

“I’m not sure if this is the best time-“

“No, I know I really just wanted to give you this.”  She said pulling out a card and handing it to Melanie.  “Where I come from there aren’t many reasons –“  she stopped, “what I mean to say is that if you need someone to talk to I’m a good listener.” 

Melanie looked down at the card, Mystic Angels – psychic readings by Anna.  “Listen, Anna, I appreciate the compassionate speech, reaching out and all that but I don’t think this is really me.”

“That’s what most people say, until they try it.”

“Well, let me think about it.  In the mean time you wouldn’t happen to have a card of a good lawyer on you?

“Actually, yes I do.  She is amazing, her name is Abbey Parker.  I think she is going through something similar to you only she doesn’t know it yet.

A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 4

4

                As the music faded, the voice of the radio announcer came on and started with the top news story.  Abbey reached over and pressed down on the snooze button.  “A little disaster here, a murder there topped off with a feel good story to help you forget how shitty things are, or should I say fucked up?”  Sunlight was pouring into the room over the bed, the warmth of it felt nice against her bare skin; she threw the covers off to the side and just relaxed. The events of the evening put down to a horrible nightmare, “too much work Abbey, that’s all.” She turned her head to the side and spoke to the empty room, “not enough love either,” she said.

 Her cell phone began vibrating on the side table making her jump out of bed.  Standing there, she could only stare at it, as if it was something new, something to fear.   “That’s ridiculous! Glass and plastic that’s all it is she muttered before leaning over to pick it up, “Hello?”

“Abbey my love, how are you I’m so sorry to hear about you and Francis, but things will get better, you’ll see - just look behind you and you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I mean no, no everything is fine, just a little weird.  Wait, what?  Look behind me, but that’s what the voice said in my dream.”

Abbey felt like she’d stepped into a tunnel and let the phone drop away as she began to fall.  She reached out but found only air and came down hard hitting her head on the edge of the footboard and ended up face down on the floor. 

It could have been seconds, minutes or hours but the room was black when she opened her eyes and uncomfortably hot.  Her body was glistening in sweat and rivulets of water trickled down from the curve of her back as she tried to sit up. The sensation of pins and needles tickled her left arm suggesting at least that it had been more than just a few minutes.  She began to rub her fingers to relieve the sensation looking around as she did.  The question of the oppressive darkness was easily answered by the long heavy drapes that were drawn tight and that the door to the ensuite bath and hall were closed.  The air was dense and humid, triggering a coughing fit that at least kept away a case of claustrophobia. 

Abbey reminded herself that she’d been in the catacombs of Paris and through the Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico.  The memories of that time made her smile and she started feeling a little foolish.  “Francis must have come back and… and what, left me here naked on the floor and closed the drapes?  What the hell is going on?”

The phone started vibrating on the floor and she was back in the tunnel; her mind swirling as all the memories from the night before came crashing in on her like waves.  She tried fighting it off, tried to rationalize it away, “Please, please, please, no!”  Then the buzzing stopped. 

Tears began welling up and there was an overwhelming urge to scream when the phone began buzzing again, the backlight casting an indigo blue light across the floor.  It had fallen beneath the bed, just out of reach from where Abbey sat cross legged on the floor.  She felt around for something to put on in spite of the sauna-esk temperature when she remembered that she had thrown a pile of Francis’ clothes on the floor.  Her hands were shaking as she pulled a shirt on and started fastening the buttons.  The phone clicked on again only this time it began to ring. It was a special ring tone that Abbey had set up for when Francis’ called, a Cold Play song.  The indigo blue light was like a beacon sending a message of hope.  She dropped to her knees and crawled around to the side of the bed, “Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry You don't know how lovely you are-“

As the music played Abbey tried to reach under the bed frame but the phone was farther up than she thought.  “-I had to find you, tell you I need you, “time was running out and she began to feel panicked.  She dropped to her stomach and reached in hitting her hand against a storage box. “Fuck!” the phone was on the other side of one of those long flat rubber maid containers for storing extra clothes or bedding.  She grabbed a corner and pushed it to the side, watching it slide down the length of the bed as the music continued to play. As she turned back to the phone she could see something on the other side of the indigo blue light. It was on the opposite side of the bed but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. “-Tell you I set you apart -“Abbey grabbed the phone and lifted it up on an angle using it like a flashlight.  The soft blue light illuminated the far side of the bed and along the base of the wall. Abbey’s breathing quickened as her heart raced and she fought the feeling of fainting as she lay still, staring at a pair of bare feet, then the call stopped and the song ended and the room was dark once again.

Abbey was almost hyperventilating; her scream came out with each word like its own sentence “What-do- you- want?”

The reply came in the form of another phone call, the same ring tone as before, as the song played Abbey lifted the phone up in front of her but kept facing the floor. The blue light cutting into the darkness and with it the very thing she was too afraid to look for.  Her head felt like it had a weight attached to it and it took all her strength to tilt it backwards.  The bed frame first, then a corner of the down comforter that draped over the mattress came into view; finally there was nothing left between them.  Her eyes saw all the familiar- safe things but in her mind she also saw the feet on the other side of the bed, those horrible ghostly feet.  Her nose was dripping and tears were streaming over her cheeks, she didn’t want to look, the third line was playing now, only one more before the phone would shut off Abbey thought to herself.  She wasn’t prepared for what happened next, what she saw, it couldn’t be.  Abbey was looking at herself standing across the bed dressed in a 19^th century bed robe, torn and dirty, her hair was shorn to bearded stubble.  Shaking she dropped the phone as she rose to standing preparing to run. 

“LOOK BEHIND YOU!”

It felt like someone was shouting right next to her, Abbey cupped her hands over her ears and pulled back tripping on the rug coming down hard on her left elbow.  A loud crack told Abbey that it was broken long before the pain coursed through her body.  The snapping sound was different.  It was more like tearing sound.  Not that Abbey was a Doctor, or had first-hand experience with a lot of trauma but it was no sound she had ever experienced.  There was too much happening, the pain blinding and pushing away everything else.  Just before she blacked out Abbey saw the hole in the floor.  She had stumbled on the rug and somehow uncovered a secret compartment in the floor exposing a stack of letters and pictures.  The drapes burst open and the room was suddenly filled with the brightness of mid day making her squint, the last thing she saw before she passed out was of the apparition disappearing through the window. 

A Kind of Homecoming - Chapter 3

3

                Behind closed eyes Abbey could sense a flickering light and a quick procession of thoughts cascaded over her.  “I should get to bed, geeze I didn’t realize I fell asleep with the TV still on, I wonder what time it is?”  The drug of sleep was set deep and the act of doing anything was a struggle, especially considering the late hour and the fact the sofa provided a cocoon like nest that was both comfortable and comforting.  If only the TV was off she thought, there would be no reason to push out of the blissful slumber.  But the flickering light was nagging and relentless and soon it was an overpowering and a controlling thought that had to be dealt with.  The muscles in her face reacted and a slit of light came into view.  As gradual as warming water the slit increased letting in more light, and the haze of her surroundings expanded and came into focus.  Something was different, something about the quality of the light didn’t feel right, and the usual brightness from the static after the final hour of the broadcast day was usually softer.  It was also inconsistent with the video tape of the fire log playing in its eternal loop, and yet the artificial fire that had soothed her into slumber only hours ago still danced and cascaded light over the floor and walls of the room.  FIRE! The suddenness of the recognition bolted Abbey upright and out of the passive comfort of restfulness that she so desired and needed.  That recognition evaporated like summer heat off a stretch of highway, replaced by wonder and fear. 

The large 52” display that Francis had purchased was gone, along with the entertainment center that stood sentinel on either side.  Her eyes widened unnaturally to the scene that lay before her.  In place of the flat utilitarian shelves that were lined with DVD’s and CD’s was an ornately carved Oak bookcase.  It ran the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling filled with hundreds of books, ledgers and pencil sketches in small wooden frames.  In the center was a massive brick and stone fireplace with a timber mantle and a hearth that extended 2 feet into the room with a fire burning softly within.  Abbey stood with mouth ajar, staring into the fire letting her eyes retrace the unnatural wall and its holdings.  She forced herself to look around the living room and beyond, catching all the changes, some subtle, some not.  Hardwood floors beneath her feet, plaster walls with smaller hand tempered glass windows, no lights in the ceiling, no switches, no thermostat, no microwave, or appliances, gone, it was all gone.  Outside the night seemed to have swallowed all light including the street lamp that had stood as a beacon and usually filled the room as a constant reminder of its presence.  A loud clang and a spray of water shot across the floor making the fire spit as drops from the fallen vase hit the flames.  A small round table lay on its side at Abbey’s feet.   “What the hell - where did that come from?”  Abbey turned and found that the sofa she had been asleep on moments ago was now gone, replaced with a hard looking wingback chair.  Things began to change faster but always away from sight, to the left, right and behind her.  Abbey began spinning in circles trying to keep up; feeling dizzy she stretched out her hand to hold herself upright. 

A loud bang and a rumble carried a vibration along the floor to her from somewhere down the bedroom hall.  From deep in the shadow a pair of red eyes was staring back at her.  Abbey could hear herself screaming but it sounded far away, like it was coming from down the hall with the thing. 

She lifted a candle from the mantle and held it with an outstretched arm, willing the light to go farther into the black.  A shuffling sound started and they eyes moved, whatever it was, was coming to her.  Abbey could feel her pulse quicken and her breathing became shallow but couldn’t move, fear had gripped her as solid as stone where she stood.  As it moved closer, faint images began to take shape as it touched the light from the candle.  Abbeys arm began to shake, the light bouncing across the wall, trying to pull back.

“Who’s there? What do you want, why is this happening?”  Abbey began to cry and had to reach out with her other hand to keep the candle steady.  The shuffling stopped, the shape of the person, thing, was just outside of sight.  “Please, please, don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die!”  Nothing happened for what seemed like an eternity, her tears splash

ed on the floor.

A thick watery voice called out, “Aaaabbeeeey!”

Abbey shrieked and dropped the candle.

“Aaabbeey, look behind you!

Shaking her head, her eyes cast down to the floor, paralyzed with fear, tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she could feel a hot breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and could only wait for something to happen.  The breath grew in strength becoming a constant breeze, then a strong wind buffeting and pushing into Abbey making her feel like she would fall over any second then nothing.

She stood in darkness, afraid to look, until a light music could be heard.  The music slowly got louder and louder.  Abbey opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom.  The clock radio playing was on and playing a piece by Chopin.

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 2

2

                The sun was shining in Albert’s bloodshot eyes as he sat in a small booth at the window of the Highway 5 truck stop diner.  He was finishing his 4^th coffee of the morning, milk with no sugar when Sandy Jensen brought the pot over to Albert and refilled his cup.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something honey? Jack makes a great breakfast; eggs, bacon, hash-browns and toast.”

“No, I’m good.” croaked Albert as he continued to stare out the window.  He was squinting, trying to avoid eye contact.  His eyes were black from lack of sleep and his cheeks left tell-tale signs from his tears.  Sandy reasoned it could be from the late night; after all she had started her shift with Albert sitting in the same spot over 7 hours ago. After 12 years of working at the diner she was pretty sure there was something else though, something much bigger.

“All right then dear, you just call if you change your mind.” putting on her best easy-as-you-go smile almost gliding over to the table of regular truckers behind him.  The men were all joking together, a bouquet of cigarettes and gasoline followed them and clouded over Albert’s head.  The solid thump of age old ceramic mugs hit the laminate table and filled the diner as each man took turns up righting them from their place.

Albert pulled his hands up to his face and began to sob as I’ll be home for Christmas came on the radio.  Half way through he lifted his head and wiped his face with a napkin from the dispenser.  He started pulling items out of each pocket and laid them out in front of him, lining each item up as if he were taking inventory.  Two pens, one wallet, one cell phone, keys, some loose change, and a ticket stub from the movies he and Loretta had gone to the night before with the kids.  He picked up his wallet and started pulling the various cards out along with a small amount of cash, laying each item out like a game of solitaire across the table.  Albert eyed over the objects, rearranged a few of them, smiled and sipped his coffee as he stood to leave.  He was out of the door before anyone noticed.

The black and tan Hummer roared to life and was already making a left hand turn onto the highway when Sandy came back to the table and spotted the curious display.  She started to run towards the door but was caught between the realization it was too late and the curiosity of the exhibit left behind.  It would be the center of great conversation for weeks to come at the Diner.

Two items that Albert didn’t leave behind were the school pictures of his kids and a case of beer he had purchased the night before.  He sat them neatly arranged on the passenger seat in the same mechanical fashion as he left everything else on the table, equally spaced, and straight rows.  The roads were clear and it was actually warm for December but the roomy interior retained a cave like cold and Albert instinctively turned on the heater.  He reached up and cranked up the radio to hear ACDC Highway to Hell and punched down on the accelerator. The SUV responded easily, 100, 120, then, 140 kilometers per hour.  “Drives like a dream!” he shouted over the music.  He reached over and grabbed a beer taking both hands off the wheel to twist the cap.  Albert guzzled the drink and pressed down a little more with his right foot, throwing the empty bottle behind him.  “Think I’ll have me another,” he said in his best Jimmy Durante voice popping the cap off a fresh bottle and pressing it to his lips.  He sipped a bit slower this time but was still finished before Angus Young gargled his signature “yeaahh” at the end of the song.  As the Hummer cruised along a loud rumble reverberated against the dashboard.  The quick consumption of alcohol had awoken his senses reminding him of his lack of sleep and food starved body. 

Just past the Avery gas plant a CN Rail train with over 120 cars was also speeding along as it crossed over one of the many intersections en route.  Engineer Ted Jacobs was behind schedule on his way north due to a grass fire just out of the city.  He was trying to make up time and decided to use the air horn in lieu of slowing down through some of the smaller communities.  The tracks meandered along the country side crossing over from west to east over the rural roads.  At some spots you were so close you felt like you could touch the train from the window or your car.  In other places it was hidden behind groves of trees or some far section of farm field.  The tracks crossed over the same road Albert was now racing down, just as it came into the small township where he grew up. 

Grabbing another beer he took his hands away to hold the bottle and twist the cap making the hummer swerve radically.  The bottle fell to the floor and began spraying foam over his feet as he grabbed the wheel and brought the Hummer back under control.  Still travelling at about 145 kilometers per hour Albert quickly dropped his head and searched the floor with his free hand while Matthew Good was shouting at the world on the radio.

As the mammoth train stretched out into a clearing after several acres of trees, Ted Jacobs noticed a light cloud of dust lifting into the air directly behind a very fast moving vehicle.  It wasn’t uncommon for people to race the train over a crossing but Ted didn’t think this guy was racing him.  Gut instinct told him this wasn’t going to be pretty and he began an emergency braking procedure to slow his train down but there wasn’t enough time.  Albert finally looked up with only 3 seconds between him and the wall of metal in front of him.

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 1

With weary eye an apparition form takes place.

Slinks and folds in my disembodied soul, in shadows deep

Reveals itself in the blind and wickedness of our own closed hearts

We are the ones, our own to fear to loath in concentric self.

                                                          

Abbey Parker shuffled up the steps to face the wreath covering the mahogany door, closed her eyes and sighed.  Snow spiraled upwards in a sudden gust and settled down into the folds of her wool scarf making her shiver.  She coughed harshly fumbling through her purse for the keys cursing as she did.  Three days before Christmas and she still had no tree, no lights and no spirit; save a sprig of holly on the outdoor light and the wreath on the door.  It had been a long and busy month at the law office and the house stood empty in darkness with an uninviting air. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time of year but in this week alone she had prepared 3 divorce proceedings and had to begin the estate settlement for one Albert Brude. 

Albert passed away shortly after his office Christmas party by running the Hummer he was driving into the side of a freight train.  He is survived by his wife Loretta and 2 daughters, Katie and Jennifer.  Katie and Jennifer will be spared the knowledge that his death was related to the upcoming arrival of their little brother who will meet the world in the delivery room of the Grace Hospital.  Nothing would ever be mentioned that the father is actually Albert’s brother Jacob. “God bless us everyone,” choked Abbey as she turned the key and entered the dark hallway.

The house was an ice box and inside a skiff of frost covered the tiles in the foyer forcing her to concentrate on her footing as she thumbed the wall for the light switch.  “Why is it so god damn cold in here?”  There was of course no answer, nor did she expect one.  Francis (her boyfriend) had left on a business trip to Italy earlier in the week and wasn’t expected to return until the first week in January.  The trip came unexpectedly on the heels of an early morning phone call in which Francis felt compelled to have in the downstairs bathroom.  A text message from the Airport was the only notice she received as she sat with a client the previous afternoon. 

A barely audible click interrupted the silence and with it the soft glow of the concealed lighting that dotted the ceiling came to life.  The lights normally provided a kind of pseudo warmth to the house but not tonight.  In the yellow light Abby could make out the condensed vapor of each exhale and a carpet of frost that covered the laminate floor.  She carefully placed the laptop on the edge of the stairs and made her way up to check the thermostat.  The soft green backlight came to life with a single touch reporting the temperature of the room to be minus 15 degrees Celsius.  She looked at the timer and groaned as she realized what had happened.  In her hurry to leave she had actually set the vacation mode that morning instead of having it turn on at 4pm to counter the plummeting evening temperatures.  She tapped the pad in several places and after a ten second pause heard the furnace element ignite, another slight pause, a click then the comforting sound of warm air being pushed throughout the house.  Abbey leaned against the wall and swallowed hard sparking a coughing fit.  The overload of work, the holidays, Francis; it was too much, she was tired in her heart and didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to be strong or patient or understanding of everyone else’s problems.   The floor would have to be mopped after the frost melted but she just didn’t care and headed for the wine cooler.  After pouring a large glass of Chardonnay she lifted it towards the ceiling in a toast to the quiet house.

Taking the scenic route through the kitchen Abbey pulled out a box of Chinese leftovers from the fridge and closed the box inside the microwave.  She sipped from the glass while she waited and took a package of contact C from the side cupboard.  The foil back ripped open like sheet of tissue paper and the pill bounced onto the floor and under the stove. “Fuck me! Screw it!”  Tears welled in her deep brown eyes and threatened to break over like a dam but she pushed back the urge and moved toward the couch.  There was still a couple hours work to do before she could rest for the night and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help.

She picked up the laptop from off the stairs and set it on the coffee table next to her dinner deciding to refill in her glass before settling down on the sofa.  Abbey looked out the window at the falling snow while the computer booted up.  Minutes later the harsh light filled the room and strained her eyes making her squint.  Abbey grabbed the remote and turned on the television to fill the void with something.  The silence in the empty house was oppressive and she just needed something, ending up on the odd station that plays carols while a looped tape of log burns in a fireplace. 

Two hours later she placed the laptop back on the table, saved the file she had been working on and closed the program leaving the screen saver visible.  It was a picture from the original movie with Alister Sim in “A Christmas Carol”.  Laying back against the soft cushions she stared at the picture for a while and contemplated the overwhelming feelings of similarity between her situations to that of Scrooge.  Not that she was ill tempered towards everyone but the empty house certainly spoke volumes of her lack of interest in the season and it seemed she would be working as many hours as Bob Marley.  Abbey laughed in spite of herself and mumbled to the din, “Alone in a cold dark house, that’s us Scrooge.” She imagined the Christmases of her youth, filled with Aunts, Uncles and assorted friends and strangers and a brightly lit tree with presents spilling out into the room.  She could almost smell the hot apple cider simmering on the stove, a Turkey in the oven with all the trimmings set out on the table and Bing Crosby singing in the background.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, the room quite now except for the crackle of the burning logs now on its 27^th loop.

Outside the storm intensified, the wind shooting the new fallen snow like knives, harpooning the trees and buildings and the terrified souls that were forced out into the blackness and cold.  Snow hit the window in waves like sand before the tide, catching, sticking looking in at the warmth, almost mocking it.  The screen saver of the Morley family having Christmas dinner remained, unblinking in the shadowed room, Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present looking on as they stand in the background.  Everyone laughing and joking together, raising their glass in an eternal toast to Mr. Scrooge and as Abbey drifted off into a dreamless sleep and as her breathing slowed the snow still tapping on the glass something in the picture had changed.   The smiles had eased on the kids’ faces and a look of concern had now spread over Bob as he sat at the end of the table. Martha was now turned in her seat looking out towards the computer screen peering into the room where Abbey now lay.

What's Andrew eating Volume 1 episode 8

Labor of Love

“Malcolm.” (pause) “Malcolm.” (pause)  “MALCOLM!”

Malcolm opened his eyes slowly, the light was unnaturally bright, everything was overexposed, and so cold that he felt stiff.  Standing up unsteadily he had to reach out for support as if his legs had never been used before.

 “What is going on?”  He called out with a strained voice, but there was no answer.  Something outside the light moving around in front of him but he couldn’t tell who or what they were.  Laughter and crying at the same time echoed down the corridor.  He stood waiting for something to happen, someone to help him but the lights faded and everything was black.

Malcolm opened his eyes as a warm breeze was blowing the curtains through the open window. It felt good.  He was alone in an empty hallway, a wheelchair sitting beside his bed.  He could see a vending machine at the end of the hall that had an aquarium face.  Hundreds of florescent fish glowing in the black light tank hovered in front of the words Coca Cola.  The lights down the hallway began to flicker and one by one they began to go out starting over the Pop machine and raced towards where Malcolm was laying.  He called out again but there was no answer so he sat up and jumped off the bed.  Pain erupted flooding his body with pain as he crashed hard onto the floor.  Something broke but the pain subsided and he was left with only the warmth that made him think he was sitting in a bath.  He reached down and felt the pool of warm liquid and knew instinctively what it would be.  He lifted his hand up and a reddish liquid was dripping from his fingers, “ah crap!” Wondering what course of action to take he sat quietly and closed his eyes.  A familiar smell filled the hall, not an unpleasant smell, more sweet and food like.  Malcolm opened his eyes slowly and looked at the landscape of tins, partially frozen fruit juice containers all over the floor, some open some closed.  He pulled himself onto the wheelchair and caught his breath.  Pushing his way through the sea of containers, orange, cherry and grape bullets of ice exploded in all directions, a rainbow mosaic left on the floor behind him as a reminder. 

Wheeling around the corner a large set of double doors blocked any further advance.  They were the kind with spring hinges to allow people to pass through without using their hands.  A sink just outside the room normally used for scrubbing up before an operation was full of dirty dishes.  William the Border collie was standing up at the sink holding a dish rag and smoking a cigarette.  He looked around at Malcolm and nodded towards the door who then stood up from the chair and walked through the doors.

The room was full of people sitting at candlelit tables chatting about who did this and I did falling silent when Malcolm entered.  There was a crowd of Doctors standing in a circle in the center of the room, a circle of lights overhead.  Two of the Doctors turned and motioned for him to come closer.  “Ah Malcolm, your just in time.” They said in unison and stepped to either side.  Inside the circle was an operating table where Sarah was laying dressed in a hospital gown with her knees up and legs wide open.   Pregnant and ready to give birth at any second she was faced and sweating but beautiful.  She also smelled vaguely of ahi pepper.

“Are you ready Sarah, here it comes!” announce the doctor with the pencil thin moustache.  He was dressed in a tuxedo with oven mitts on his hands. “It’s a fish! Then right after, Braised Lamb, dish after dish was whisked from under Sarah’s gown and they were handing them to Malcolm.  He wasn’t sure at first what to do at first but the crowd began to clap and he realized he had to deliver to the waiting people at the candlelit tables.

Sautéed Queen Charlotte Halibut with Aji pepper and linguini with Hedgehog mushrooms in a Vermouth cream sauce

 

Sumac rubbed pork chops with roasted red peppers stuffed with      grape tomatoes, garlic and anchovies

Delicious is pan seared porcini and New Mexico

Fennel brined duck breast on celeriac and potato purée with Garnacha reduction

 

Braised moose with sautéed shredded truffled Brussel's Sprouts and Dijon and crème fraiche roasted potatoes accompanied with oven roasted grape tomatoes

   Wild BC Spot Prawns!

 Third course consists of porcini dusted Qualicum Bay scallops with Himalayan sea salt, fennel pollen and chile threads on top of pappardelle with a lemon cream sauce

On and on it went, everyone was applauding and whistling, it carried on for so long a ringing sound began to sing in Malcolm’s ears.  It started slowly and built into a single long note. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.  The lights went out and there was no sound.

The Doctor with the pencil thin moustache closed his eyes, “That’s all we can do, call it 11:07.

What's Andrew Eating Volume 1 Episode 7

The Camping Trip

The hot, humid days of summer had arrived to the small township of Oakville after what seemed to be a record setting spring of continuous rain and overcast skies.  The one’s that had braved the soaring temperatures took what little refuge they could in the shelter of the weeds that now had to be pulled before they overtook the rows of lovingly planted vegetables and herbs.  By noon most of those brave souls could take no more and withdrew into the relative safety of their air conditioned homes.  Andrew was one of those ardent gardeners and one of the few that doggedly remained in the center of his small oasis pulling weeds with one hand and wiping sweat from his brow with the other.  He was determined to finish no matter what and he was well on his way when the phone rang.  Andrew removed his gloves as he walked towards the patio and reached over the glass pitcher of lemonade on the table. He curled his fingers around the handset lifting it up to his ear, “Hello?”

It was Malcolm’s mom; “Yes, hello Andrew?” she began.  She was speaking much too fast and almost out of breath. Andrew had an idea that something was wrong immediately.

3 days earlier

Malcolm had convinced his parents during the final few weeks of school to let him borrow his mother’s car so that he could head up to Algonquin Park with Sarah for a few days. It would be after the Canada day long weekend, right after his Dad had left to the Airport so he played on the “Alone time” theme that he believed his mother needed.  Harder to convince was Sarah’s parents but after some assurances regarding sleeping accommodations, they reluctantly agreed.  They had all been together on the evening of the 1^st and even though they had stayed up late watching the fireworks by the lake Malcolm was still determined that they were going to leave early the next day. Malcolm had spent the previous weekend organizing pots, sleeping bags, clothes, food, matches, first aid and on down the list packing and repacking into his backpack.  The only thing missing was the tent, well at least one that would fold down to a decent size and weighed a bit less. Saturday afternoon he picked up Sarah and they spent the day at the Mountain Equipment Co-op or MEC as it was more affectionately known.  They found a small 2 man tent shaped like a segment of watermelon. Of course no one actually asked about one tent or two but Malcolm understood how parents thought and brought the other tent with him when he came to pick up Sarah the next day.  He also made sure it sat high on the pile supplies, obvious but not too obvious.  Craig Johnson leaned in the open window and kissed Sarah on the temple, “Be good! He commanded looking up at Malcolm as he did and then casually scanned the back of the car.  “Do you have everything?”  He asked, sunscreen, rope for hanging your food, sleeping bags..?”  He trailed off.  That was when Malcolm noticed the look of concern lift from his face and he knew he had spotted the second tent.  “Ah, good then, well we’ll let you get off then, you are a bit behind I think?   Sarah’s mom leaned in and gave her a quick hug whispering something into Sarah’s ear and tucking something into the palm of her hand.

On the Road

Sometimes a little procrastination is a good thing, Algonquin Park being about a 3 1/2 hour drive from Oakville would have been more like a 4 or 5 hour drive with commuter traffic. Leaving late in the day meant that it was all the time they needed.  “Four o’clock!” said Malcolm as he pulled up to the gate to check into the park. “Three Fifty seven,” corrected Sarah smiling as she reached into her wallet.  “My mom gave us some money for the park fees.”

 “Excellent!” exclaimed Malcolm wearing a huge grin.

They were at the trail head 20 minutes later and into the wilderness.  The canopy of Oaks and Maple cut the sunlight into a patchwork quilt across the trail in front of them.  The carpet of deadfall softened their footsteps and a noticeable quiet pressed in around them than made you feel like you were underwater.  They walked hand in hand until the trail narrowed then took turns leading.  It didn’t take long to notice the weight of the packs, the extra heat they created and now capturing the beads of sweat trickling and pooling in the curves of their lower backs.  After a long steady climb the path began to blend into the rest of the forest floor as the light softened.   Sarah stopped dead at the crest and Malcolm walked straight into her nearly knocking her off her feet.  When he saw the drop off the rocky cliff below he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.  “Holy crap!” he breathed looking around and finding his footing.  “I’m so sorry,” he began but stopped and stared off over her right shoulder.  They were standing on a ridge where the trees quickly disappeared below them and ended at the edge of a crystal clear lake. Reds and oranges filled the westerning sky and a light fog was drifting around the edge of the water as the heat of the day fell off.  Sarah followed his gaze and gasped, “We are camping here no matter what.” 

Once they were at the bottom of the hill they quickly dropped the packs on the ground and grabbed some snacks that Andrew had made for them. Granola clusters made with oats, nuts honey and dark cherries that was simply delicious.  After the tent was set up, and the meal complete Malcolm was tying off the food cache in a neighboring tree when he heard a splash.  He followed the sound, laughing to himself thinking Sarah had fallen in when he came across a boot, a sock then the other boot with the sock stuffed into it.  He looked up and saw a trail of clothing that led to a gap in the bushes where a small white piece of clothing rested flag like at the end of a dead branch. Seconds later a second splash broke the silence.

Sarah slept restlessly on the top of the sleeping bag when she heard a click outside the tent.  Then scraping sound on material.  She leaned over and pushed Malcolm, “Wake up, wake up!  There’s something out there with the food. 
“What-huh?”  He mumbled then promptly fell back to sleep.  
Pushing a little harder and leaning into Malcolm’s ear she whispered, “Wake up!” but with a bit more urgency. “There’s something out there” she said again drawing out the words. 
Malcolm was exhausted from the long day and tried comforting Sarah, "It's probably just a squirrel or something" and fell back to sleep in minutes but was awake once again by the sound of the sleeping bag rustling.  "Sarah, please just relax I'm sure it is nothing to worry about." He closed his eyes again and rolled over trying to escape but he could feel Sarah staring at him. He flicked awake at the sound of her whimpering and bolted upright inside the small tent. The combination of late nights, walking with a heavy pack for hours in 30° heat was clearly the reason for his hasty reaction. He couldn't have been thinking reasonable as he grabbed the flashlight and raced out of the tent into the moonlight. 
“Malcolm, what are you doing?” Sarah yelled. “It could be a bear!”  

There was no need for the flashlight, the moon provided all the light he needed to see that it was just a raccoon sitting on top of the food bag pulling smaller bags of food out and dropping them on the ground.  Sarah didn’t need a flashlight to see Malcolm either. He was standing below the raccoon in nothing but his boxers lobbing small rocks and twigs up into the tree. He was a lousy shot and didn’t hit the animal once but it retreated all the same and disappeared into the forest.  He smiled at Sarah, content with his accomplishment, oblivious.

The next day was just as hot as the last and started earlier as the moisture from the lake seemed to feed the humidity in the air 10 times over.  After breakfast of some fruit and eggs in a bag they set out once more.  The packs were still damp and cold from the afternoon before, Sarah let out a gasp as she lifted it up onto her shoulders.  Malcolm screeched and lunged forward as if he was trying to out run his.  About half way through the day they reached a point in the trail where you could either stay on the shorter loop or break off and travel a larger loop that brought you around the full length of the large lake and boggy marsh.  A bridge that crossed the river acted as the intersection for the two loops.  There was a single sign with grooves cut into it that looked as if it was created by a 5^th grade woodshop class.  The marker that said (you are here) could have been anywhere on the path.  Malcolm wasn’t even sure which line was supposed to be the river and which one was supposed to be the trail.  They both stared at it for several minutes when Malcolm blurted out, “The Bridge!”  It came out like a statement but without a lot of the conviction.  Bridges lead away, over the river and around, right?  I’m pretty sure we need to stay on this side of the river he said at last.  Who could argue with that logic?  That is the trouble with logic, is sounds so…logical.  Unfortunately you could also reason that there might be another bridge just before the parking lot where the Volkswagen was parked.  Malcolm and Sarah were heading into the wilderness and it would be nightfall before they realized they would be spending and extra night.

“Four and a half hours in the wrong direction Malcolm!” Sarah cried.  “And it has got to be what, 3 hours easy back to the second camp site on the first trail.”

“Four” muttered Malcolm.

“What was that?” asked Sarah. 

“Nothing, forget it. Come on, it was an easy mistake.  ”Let’s just eat something and set up the tent.  A good night’s sleep and we’ll move out early tomorrow morning.”   The knowledge of the extra walking that had to be done weighed heavily on Sarah.  It wasn’t so much the walk that worried her; it was the huge blister almost the full length of her heel.  She winced as she pulled off her boot pressing her teeth together to stifle a cry.  She didn’t want Malcolm to know and crawled into the tent to get the first aid cream.  “I’m going to bed!” she said and disappeared inside.  Malcolm looked up at the stars that were coming into view on the eastern horizon and wondered if it wouldn’t be better for him to sleep outside.  He decided to just watch the sun set and let the night fill in the shadows before he slipped into the tent.

Sarah was up, dressed, packed and ready to go before Malcolm was even out of the tent.  Her heel looked terrible and felt worse but she never said a word.  Malcolm was ready to go without eating when Sarah pulled out a dish of berries she had collected that morning. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly. “I’m sorry about everything, and then his spirit lifted, “if we can keep up a good pace we can probably make it out tonight.” He smiled as he lifted the pack up onto his shoulders.  Sarah smiled back but without the same faith and they set off.  Sarah began to limp about half way back to the bridge and started slowing down.  By the time they got the bridge it was already early afternoon and the pain was setting in.  She pulled off the trail and sat at the edge of the river, “I have to rest for a bit” she said and slowly took off her boots.  She wasn’t sure it was a good idea but she had to risk it.  She dipped her feet into the cool water and began sobbing and explained everything to Malcolm.  It was a relief at first to find out she wasn’t mad with him but he nearly passed out at the sight of her blister.  Another hour passed and Sarah pulled her feet out of the water.  Her heel looked more like it had been burned, the redness and raw skin stood in stark contrast against the pale white skin on top her foot.  “Malcolm, can you hand me the first aid kit please?”  She asked without looking up.  Malcolm who had been staring at disbelief jumped at the sound of her voice as if he’d been kicked and quickly ran over to the pack. “There’s no way you can walk out with that.” He said. “We need to start thinking of an alternate plan.  It’s probably another 3 hours regular walking to the next camp site, then another 3, maybe 4 to the car.  I’ll set up the tent for you to stay here.  I’m going to run back to the car and then call for help, maybe there is some coverage somewhere along the road.  Worst case I’ll use the landline at the park office and get help from one of the rangers.  Sarah began to argue but couldn’t even touch the wound with a towel to dry it.  She agreed reluctantly and Malcolm cleared an area for the tent.

Within 20 minutes he had set up a nice camp and a place for a fire.  Malcolm took only the essentials, water, a couple granola bars then he was off.  He leaned over and kissed Sarah, “I love you” he breathed.  Sarah pulled back and stared at Malcolm.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out, I wasn’t thinking.” He said as he stood up quickly and turned to go in a single motion.  He didn’t wait for any kind of answer instead he began running to ease the embarrassment, the rush of cool air felt good against his red cheeks. 

Sarah sat and thought about what had just happened and watched Malcolm disappear around the corner. They had grown up together, shared ghost stories and slurpies, summer camp and snow forts. They hadn’t seen each other much in the first few years of high school but she always hoped.  Sarah sat in the warmth of the sun, closed her eyes and smiled.

Present day

Andrew got off the phone and packed some food into a cooler, just some sushi he had been experimenting with and rushed out to the car. 

His unexpected friendship with Malcolm came with a surprise.  He had his own circle of friends of course but somehow he had also been drawn into Malcolm’s which included his family which wasn’t a bad thing at all as far as he was concerned.  He was sure that it was simple parental protection that spurred the first meeting but they had all bonded.  Malcolm’s father was off on business and his mother was worried. It was reasonable to think they could just be late, a flat tire perhaps, or stopped for something to eat after taking longer to get off the trail but her intuition said differently.  She had called Andrew just to be sure that Malcolm hadn’t  simply stopped off to give him something, a fresh fish perhaps or wild berries for one of his recipes. It was the call from Sarah’s mom that got her on the phone to Andrew.

It was well after midnight by the time Andrew and Rebecca McTavish passed through the gates of Algonquin Park.  They met one of the park wardens and they drove together to the parking lot of the trail where Rebecca’s car sat silent and empty. “On the bright side, Mrs. McTavish,” began Constable Turner, who had been waiting by the car. “On the bright side, there is no sign of a struggle and the car is locked up tight with a number of personal belongings, meaning this is how they left it and by all accounts they are meaning to come back to it.”  She wanted to shout at him, “So why aren’t they here then. Where the fuck are they?” but she simply nodded politely and quelled all the new possibilities and tragedies that were swirling around her head. “So what do we do?” she asked. The officer explained that the trail could be taken in two directions and that although it was a continuous loop it was attached to.. blah blah blah.  Rebecca had tuned out and began walking towards the start of the trail. The moon was still providing an incredible amount of light so that even in these very early hours of morning you could see everything quite well.  She was just about to ask when they were going to leave when a thumping could be heard. “Shhh, did anyone hear that?” It was a distance off but it was there, a constant thump thump, then it stopped.  “Could be nothing mam, there are a lot of things out here that could be making that noise. Deer, Moose, even a chipmunk can sound like a large animal within the trees.” 

“That is no damn chipmunk” she snapped.  “My son is out there with a beautiful young girl and I’m going in to find them!”

“Mom?” whispered a very tired voice behind her.  Rebecca McTavish turned to see Malcolm standing there; pale, dirty where he had been sweating and began sobbing with relief until she realized he was alone.  “Where is Sarah?” she asked. “She’s okay, sort of” began Malcolm and then he explained about getting lost and the blister.  

As Malcolm was explaining, the park warden was making calls to various people including an EMTs. The officer had two quads on a trailer that he was pulling down and pulled out an extra helmet.  The ambulance was there in 10 min and immediately got Malcolm in and began checking his vital signs and gave him an IV to replace all the fluids he had lost.  He had asked to go back to get Sarah but the paramedic took one look at Malcolm’s face and shook her head. “We don’t need you passing out on the back of a quad” she said.

In didn’t take long for them to find Sarah, she could see the lights coming through the trees long before the noise of the engines announced the arrival of safety.  She was already up and packing the tent when the officer and paramedic arrived.  After checking Sarah they loaded up the gear and turned the quads around.  They were back to the parking lot in no time and they helped her into the ambulance.  Malcolm began to sit up but was pushed back down again, “You rest!” commanded the paramedic and finished her checkup of Sarah.

The sun created a sliver of light across the horizon when Andrew pulled out of the parking lot. Rebecca drove with Malcolm and Sarah leaning close to each other holding hands but with eyes closed.  Sarah’s parents were waiting in the driveway when pulled in. Andrew stopped off and pulled the backpacks out for them. He was just about to leave when Rebecca stopped him.  “Thank you so much Andrew, I don’t know if I could have managed myself. Please stay and have some breakfast with us, I think we’re all curious about how the camping trip went. Besides, I think you know this one. It was amazing strawberry shortcake with Creme de Cassis that Rebecca had pulled of Andrews’ recipe blog. I knew I had to make this when I saw it she said.

Andrew made some espresso and they savored the moment together and listened to the tale of the somewhat abridged version of their camping trip.